


Just...

by Tiny_But_Whole



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Claustrophobia, Claustrophobic Dean, Hurt/Comfort, Original Character(s), POV Outsider, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 04:05:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8086501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiny_But_Whole/pseuds/Tiny_But_Whole
Summary: Sam and Dean get arrested for grave decimation and have to spend 24 hours in a prison cell, that may not seem bad but Dean has claustrophobia.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t own Supernatural or any of the characters.  
> Takes place in season 2  
> I also don't work at a prison so if any of this is not right I apologize.

Just...

I sigh, as my fingers tapping to the music on the steering wheel of my Ford. Another long night at my usual post. When I went into police work, I did not expect to get a job as a security guard at the local prison in Everett, Washington. I had hoped to be in the police force, out in the field, actual helping civilians. Instead I ended up with the night guard job. It wasn't the worst job, it paid well, but it was just so utterly boring, and also meant I was asleep most of the day leaving less time for friends and family members.

  
I pull into the parking lot of Snohomish County Jail and found a nice parking place near the back. The county asks the staff to try not to use the space in the front so it can be open for visitors and police cars with incoming prisoners. Currently, three cars I do not recognize, probably visitors, and two cop cars were parked by the front door. Two new prisoners tonight. They never put more than one criminal in the same vehicle if they can help it. Hopefully they’re not near my area, the fresh ones are always the rowdiest. They have more hope and tend to talk your ear off, I personally don't really care for what they have too say, they’re uncivil. They will do whatever it takes to escape, definitely not below dirty tricks and bribery.

  
In the six story jail, my station is Floor 3 Section C. Being the second floor that actually holds prisoners (because the first floor is just the front desk, storage, and visiting), it usually has a decent amount of cells occupied but in this last month crime is pretty low. Meaning that the only people are those who are already waiting out their sentence, and maybe these two new people.

  
Going through the motions of every night work, I slide into what could be described as locker rooms to get my gear on. It takes several painstaking minutes to get all the gear and tools into their proper place and, once on, it takes a good few more minutes to get use to the weight. It doesn’t bother me as much as it use to though, I have been working here for several years now. In my full uniform (more like body armor), I head back into the lobby, climb the back stairs, and turn my feet towards the holding cells. Swiping my ID into the card reader, I wait for the gate to open, which doesn’t take long. As I step into the next area I take note of my coworker, Jim Sherman. He joined the crew only two months after me and we have become good friends over the years.

  
When Jim sees me enter, he heads towards me, “Hey, two new prisoners are in, looks like they’ll be placed in your section.”

  
“Great.” I huff, “What they in for?”

  
“Grave decimation.”

  
“Grave decimation? That’s only a twenty four hour sentence why are they in the jail and not in the cells at the station?” I inquire, probing for more information.

  
“They gave the arresting officer some grief so they are also being held for resisting arrest.” Is his explanation.

  
“Who are they?”

  
“How should I know. I’m just giving you a heads up, I’m not told anything. I just know that they got here a couple minutes ago, only been in two minutes now. Good luck with those two, from what I _have_ seen, you’re going to need it.” With that said Jim walks to sector B to watch his assigned hallway.

  
Turning to my right I head to sector C to take my own place. Walking in I see that my fellow guard, Carrie, has already released the former guard and taken her spot at the front of the hall. Moving to the end I tell the current person on duty their shift was over. He gives me a slight nod of acknowledgment and heads off to go home. I envy him, I hate the night shift.

  
Sector C is mostly empty, there is Timon Hamilton (robber), in the first cell to the right, Ava Nelson (drunk driving, 5 accounts) in the fifth to the left, and the two new ones in conjoined cells to my left and the very end of the hall. According to the label to the side of the cells their names are Sam Winchester and Dean Winchester. Same last name. Relatives? Lovers? Coincidence?

  
Dean is tall, a good six feet and sporting some nicely defined features. He’s well built, one could say like a football player, plenty of muscle hiding under the orange outfit. With full lips, styled hair, and stunning green eyes, he would easily be described as a lady's man. When he catches my eye he shoots me a smirk that sends shivers down my spine, whether out of fear or excitement I’m not sure. I also see an hint of something else behind those vibrant, emerald orbs, something I can not place.

  
If Dean is tall, Sam is giant, towering at a roughly three inches above Dean. With softer features, his hair is much longer but no less perfect. It’s obvious Sam is even bulkier, but he holds a type of grace not shown in Dean. His nose is pointed and his eyes are a soft hazel giving him a much kinder hue than his partner.

  
While Dean looks calm and maybe a little smug, Sam looks worried and keeps shooting looks at his brother's cell as if he is waiting for something. Maybe he is. I’ll have to keep an eye on those two, they look like trouble. They also don’t look like the type to have been arrested for grave decimation but then again it would be easy to use those looks to an advantage.

  
Standing straight backed next to the wall I stare straight ahead, preparing myself for the long night with only four criminals. I was the only guard on this corridor, so it got lonely.

  
Knowing myself, I’ll only be able to stand here for a half hour before the boredom starts to take its toll and I start to slouch. I never fall asleep, I do that during the day, but my back starts to ache and my feet will need a break.

  
Timon and Ava have already fallen asleep by now, both have been in here long enough to be able to ignore us, and both only have a few months on their sentence left. But these new guys, they look like they are going to give me a tough time, they’re only here for a night, luckily.

  
“So you’re our babysitter for the night.” Dean starts, ”Got a name or is it just ‘Guard’?”

  
“Dean!” Sam hisses, “Don’t bother the guards.”

  
I promptly ignore them.

  
“Aww, Sammy I just trying to make our time here more bearable.”

  
Immediately after the words are out of Dean's mouth the intercom comes on. “Lights out!” It blares. Of course it doesn’t mean that the jail is going to be pitch black it just means everyone should be at their stations and the prisoners should quiet down for the night.

 

The overhead lights flick off and all that is left on are the small lights every few cells for those with a night shift. Sam and Dean’s cells happen to have one in between them giving each of their cells a slight illumination.

  
I can see Dean's eyes flashing in the darkness, the light glinting off them. There it is again, that look behind his eyes, but this time I get the chance to identify it before the mask of self-confidence is placed back. Fear…

  
“You never answered my question. What’s your name?” He waits for an answer. I remain silent.

  
“Come on, if we are going to be here all night we might as well get to know each other. Hi, I’m Dean and you are?” He ends by sticking his arm through the bars. Damn, he not going to let up is he.

  
I sigh, turn to him, and gruffly remind him that it’s lights out and he should sleep. Finally, he gives up, and starts to pace back and forth within his cell.

  
Sam has kept his silent vigil, waiting, I’m still not sure what for.

 

* * *

 

It’s been an hour and Deans pacing has not let up. In fact, it has only become more frantic. Sam’s eyes are travelling back and forth, following his partners movements even with the wall separating them. I’m not sure if it’s some acute sense or if Dean's just that noisy. Either way it’s sweet and creepy at the same time.

  
“Dean?” One word, that’s the only thing Sam has said since he told Dean to quit bothering me. He deep, honey-laced voice is cautious as if one wrong word and Dean will shatter. Maybe he will…

  
“I’m fine!” Is the snap back, before Dean sits on the floor, head between his legs, and arms wrapped protectively around himself. He is breathing heavily. The mask is gone.

  
At this point Sam is pressed against the wall between him and Dean, listening closely. “Dean, listen to me, it’s okay. Deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out.”

  
“Just… give me a minute. I’m fine just… “ They both drop silent.

  
Just when Dean seems to be calming down, he risks a glance out from in between his legs and immediately starts to hyperventilate, backing into the corner. Looking like all the wrath of God was upon him.

  
“Dean! Calm down. I’m right here, it’s okay.” Sam is frantic, trying to keep a calm quiet voice. He’s failing.

 

Dean’s not hearing him, so Sam turns his attention over to me. “Please, let me go to him. We aren’t going to pull anything, I swear He’s claustrophobic! PLEASE!”

  
I hesitate. My first instinct is to just ignore him. From past experiences, I know it might be a trick. A convict will pretend to be dying or something crazy like that, and make a run for it. But there is something genuine in the way Sam pleads. I glance back at the sobbing ball in the corner. This was such a cocky, sure-of-himself man, the only way he would be like this is if it’s a honest to god phobia. “Fine”.

  
Pulling my gun, because I still don’t quite trust them. I unlock Sam’s cell door. With his hands up in surrender, I walk him the four feet to Dean’s door. The moment Dean’s door is open, Sam is on his knees, in front of Dean, using the same surrender gesture he was using with me, but now it meant so much more. Safety, for Dean, lay is those open palms.

  
As I locked them into the cell together, Sam has managed to get the hysterical Dean into his arms, holding him, and whispering reassurances. Dean quickly fell asleep, relaxed in Sam’s arms, and was soon followed by Sam himself, in peaceful sleep.

  
I do not know what happened to those two, they were gone the next night, but I know that I will never forget them.

 

* * *

 

  
Five Years Later

Brothers, that’s what they were. As all of the United States watches, I witness the two boys I had seen crying into each other's arms, murder dozens of innocents, again. This has already happened before. How many times are these Winchesters going to “die”?

  
It has remained a mystery to me on how those two brothers ended up the way they did. To be honest, I don’t want to know, because the only ways to know will to attract their attention, and I have a family that I must think of now. My spouse still doesn’t know about my experience. I don’t think I’ll ever tell them, this is my secret. A secret that I ponder at night within the arms of my lover.

  
The men I met and the murders on T.V. are so different I question if they are really the same people... It’s silly, really, who else could it be. The notion that it is anyone else is just…

crazy.


End file.
